How the Goddess Was Won
by mat528
Summary: Spike teaches his Goddess how devoted to her he really is. A partial "Spuffy" and a "Spillyria".


HOW THE GODDESS WAS WON

**A/N: This story deals with events in "After the Fall", though it is not necessary to be acquainted with that series. In the "Spike: After the Fall" portion, he and Illyria were Demon Lords of Beverly Hills, and they lived in a mansion. **

**Although Beverly Hills returns to a semblance of normalcy after the "Angel: After the Fall" series, this story presupposes that Spike and Illyria have their mansion as payment for their help with the people of that area.**

**This is an Alternate Universes tale, and it doesn't follow strict canon.**

**Synopsis: After a year together, Illyria and her alter ego Fred discover that they have deeper feelings for a certain platinum blond vampire. What happens when Buffy, however, finds out about Spike being alive and returns from Italy to deal? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own either "After the Fall" series, nor do I own any "Buffy: TVS" or "Angel" characters. It all belongs to Joss, IDW comics, and Dark Horse comics, and any dialogue or similar situations is coincidental. This work is for fun, and not to plagiarize.**

**Please read and review!!**

Spike went downstairs to the front door after tossing on his newest robe: a black terry cloth, trimmed with red. He had given his demon butler, Gerard, the evening off after the events of the previous year. The platinum haired vampire hoped it wasn't another call for help. He really wanted at least a small vacation from his new destiny as a Demon Lord, and he also wanted to sort out his feelings for a certain blue haired Goddess and her alter ego who had, unknowingly, crept into his unbeating heart.

He was about to answer the persistent knocking when he realized who was on the other side of the huge oak structure.

_Maybe I should…_Spike thought; then, he remembered that pretending not to be home was not an option. His visitor would be well aware that he was occupying this space, so he couldn't very well hide.

Besides, he had never been one to walk away from a challenge. He took an unneeded breath and opened it.

"Buffy…" he greeted, wondering how she had found him. _If that ponce Andrew told her 'bout me, I'll bloody well kill him! _He decided mentally, conjuring up an image of the nerdy employee of the woman who stood before him.

The Slayer waited expectantly, making no moves to come in. "May I come in?" she asked after too long a silence. Spike opened the door wider in a silent invitation, but the Chosen One held back.

"Come in, pet," the vampire said. Buffy walked inside but didn't go any further. Her green eyes took in the opulence of the dwelling Spike now lived in. Although she had seen her share of wealth, stepping inside of someone's home who had, or in his case seemed to have, money was still a little daunting. It hadn't been like she'd ever seen Cordelia's place when the formerly rich girl had been alive, and everyone else that Buffy usually traveled with didn't have huge digs.

"Wow," she breathed. "I never would have pegged you for the Donald Trump type."

"Why?" Spike responded. "Told you I came from money when I was human."

"Well, yeah, but it's one thing to imagine it," Buffy replied, "and quite another to see it."

The vampire shrugged, a bit of the moonlight catching the gold chain around his neck. "Payment given for services rendered," he said nonchalantly. Buffy's eyes narrowed. Just what kind of payment was Spike talking about? He caught her reaction.

"Still damning me with your eyes, Slayer?" he asked, with no small hint of derision coating his deceptively soft voice. "Even after…wha', a year apart, you're accusin' me of…what is it now? Stealing this place perhaps?"

Buffy put her tiny hands on her shapely hips. The movement accentuated her curves, Spike noted with appreciation. She had also, it seemed, developed a slightly bustier chest. Her hair was hanging down her deep chocolate leather jacket, stopping just past her shoulders, and her bootleg pants that matched along with a pink tank completed the picture.

"You said it," the young woman said, "I didn't." Spike walked away from her to one of his dens and grabbed a cigarette. He lit it and took a drag, then, surprisingly, extinguished it in an ashtray. Buffy followed in soon after, her eyes looking at the modern paintings on the walls.

"You want to accuse me o' doin' what I din't, don't even _think _about doing that in my bloody home!" Spike shouted. Buffy came closer so that they stood toe-to-toe.

"I didn't accuse you of anything!" She snapped.

"Bu' you were going to, right, pet?" the vampire guessed. "That's why I'm glad things ended the way they did! It never would have gone well between us. One o' us would have paid big time, the way we fought and wounded each other!"

Buffy's eyes suddenly took a downward turn. She _was _going to condemn him without getting all the facts. It was all too easy to beat down Spike, a vampire who had always stirred up the most intense of emotions within her.

"Spike, I'm sorry…" she said softly, touching his shoulder. His hand flew to hers, but after a moment, he flung it away.

"Don't," he said, equally as soft. Before either could say anything else, Spike turned to regard the other occupant of the mansion who had come into the room. Illyria's blue streaks were illuminated by the lights above. Her feet bore no trace of a sound as she glided across the plush, navy carpet.

"We have company," she pronounced flatly. She and Buffy regarded each other for a moment. Spike observed the silent exchange, wondering what Blue was thinking about his unwanted houseguest.

"Yeh, imagine that," he said, trying to diffuse what could be a potential fire. "Buffy jus' came by to…".

"See the mansion," the Slayer admitted truthfully.

"And, now that you have seen it, what is your business here?" Illyria asked coldly, part of her wondering why she felt the way she did.

Her human emotions could be quite confusing at times, and she didn't know how to control them whenever they peeked out. The former Demon Goddess knew about the Elder Slayer from Spike's and Angel's descriptions of her of course, including the life that Spike had had with her before Illryia had taken residence inside of the shell that had been Winnifred Burkle. The Fred part of her wanted so badly to protect her vampire from this viper who had broken his heart, and the Illyria side wanted to crush her bones to paste for even daring to snatch her pet from under her.

Unaware of the conflict raging inside of Illyria, Buffy said, "Actually, I heard about Spike's rising from the dead, and I came to see for myself."

Illyria's eyes glowed. She placed a protective hand on her vampire's shoulder, running it unwittingly down the side of his arm. Buffy didn't miss the small gesture which spoke volumes. Neither did Spike. He looked over at the blue female, his scarred eyebrow raised, his head doing the classic tilt whenever he was regarding something.

"He is alive and well," Illyria said, willing herself to sound unaffected by Buffy's intrusion, "so now you may go."

"I c'n fight my own battles, Blue," Spike whispered to Illyria as his face turned to her. His hand slid to hers as she stopped caressing his arm. She felt his cool touch and inside, she purred. Outwardly, she still looked at the Elder Slayer with possessive eyes.

Spike let Illyria's hand go. He turned his head back to regard Buffy, his deep blue eyes looking into her green ones. "Give me a mo', pet," he told Illyria. She studied Buffy, then Spike, who had not stopped looking at the other girl. For a moment, worry crossed her freckled face. The former Goddess left the room and walked to the front door, letting herself out.

"Who told you I was here?" Spike asked Buffy after they were alone. "Did Nerdy Boy drop a word?"

It took a moment for Buffy to realize that Spike was talking about Andrew. "What?" she asked. "No, he never said anything!"

"Who, then?" Spike demanded angrily. "Peaches? Or did maybe your bloody Scooby gang find out?"

"No one told me," Buffy said. Spike's look was caustic.

"Nobody told me!" Buffy repeated. "I found out when you came to Italy last year with Angel."

"When we saw you dancing with that wanker, the Immortal?" Spike guessed. When Buffy gave him a nod, the vampire snarled, "so the bloody bastard told you then!"

"No!" Buffy said. "He didn't say anything. I sensed both of you there!"

Spike tried to wrap his mind around that. The platinum blond knew Buffy's Slayer Sense was finely tuned, but he had really thought that he and Angel were somehow cloaked from her radar since she had seemed to be lost in the Immortal when she'd been dancing with him.

"'F you sensed both of us, why the bloody hell didn't you come over, or somethin'?" he asked hotly.

Buffy looked away from Spike just then. She walked over to the table and drank some water she saw. "I didn't want you to think I knew you were there," she admitted. "It was _painful _for me, all right? Feeling you there, it made me relive the guilt that I had about bringing you to the edge and letting you tumble in when you saved the world!"

Spike thought about the time they'd spent in the cave as Sunnyhell was destroyed at the hands of the First and its minions.

_I love you, Buffy had declared as the stone walls crumbled around them._

_No, you don't, Spike knew as he experienced a moment of perfect clarity, but thanks for sayin' it._

"So, you jus' wanted to use me to make you feel better, is that it, kitten?" he asked bitterly. Buffy gripped his arm just then, but as she caught the condemnation in his eyes, she dropped her hand.

"No!" she declared. "I didn't just come to make myself feel better! I came to say how sorry I am. Ever since I had discovered you were alive, the one thing I wanted to do was to put things right between us!"

Spike snorted, asking, "Sure took your time about it, didn't you, pet?" Buffy's eyes started leaking angry tears, but Spike didn't react with guilt. The demon inside of him cried for him to finish the job, to humiliate the Slayer as surely as she had walked all over his devotion to her.

"A whole year!" he snapped, morphing into his game face. "I was here a _whole soddin' year, _and you never saw me durin' that time! What'd you do: get turned around when you reached California?"

"I couldn't deal, all right?!" Buffy shouted back. "I thought it would just be better to forget about you and Angel, but then I couldn't do it! I knew I had been wrong! I couldn't let you go on, thinking about me, not living your unlife. I knew you were probably back in California, but every time I searched, something came up that I had to take care of and I didn't want to just blow in and apologize and have to blow out in a hurry! So I had Willow do a spell to make sure I wouldn't be needed and that the other Slayers could take care of things without my butting in!"

"Oh, feel the love…" Spike muttered sarcastically. He turned away, not wanting to be anywhere near Buffy.

Buffy turned his face back to hers as she punctuated her words. "I. love. you" she affirmed, stroking his cheek.

Spike's words were a soft, sad caress. "No, you don't," he said slowly, "bu' thanks for sayin' it."

"I _do _love you," Buffy repeated firmly. "I just am not _in love_ with you." Spike studied her, letting her words take hold. The Premiere Slayer looked at him, wondering what his next move would be.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Now wearing her Fred shape, Illyria used a dimensional portal to teleport herself to Angel's L.A. mansion as the Lord of Los Angeles. She stepped out and waited in front of the War Room, as the elder vampire had called it, where the brown haired revenant discussed strategies for saving the world.

Angel opened the door, saying, "Fred." He walked back to his desk, where a trio of demons stood up, bowing respectfully to the human Goddess.

"You don't have to bow," Fred told them, her Southern accent pronounced. She let the demons file out, and as they did, she saw that Wesley's ghost was hovering by Angel's side.

"Fred," Wesley greeted, his blue light glowing brighter.

"Wes," she said fondly. "How are things?"

"Fine," he told her. "Actually, better than fine. I may be going home for good, if those demons are able to assist." Her brown eyes found Angel's and they regarded the vampire's quizzically.

"I was able to get the contract to see if there was a loophole, and those demon lawyers are looking into it," Angel explained. "They owed me favors for helping them last year, and I mentioned that this was the way to clean the slate. As much as I want Wesley to stay, I wouldn't want him to be here and miss out on his eternal rewards."

"So, we are researching the best way to satisfy both parts," Wesley told her. Fred smiled. She would miss Wesley terribly if he left permanently, but she knew it was for the best.

"What brings you here?" Angel asked, studying a book.

"I need your advice," Fred said. "I have a problem that you might be able to help me with."

"Would that problem be a five foot nine inch tall, bleached blond vampire?" Wesley guessed.

The anger and frustration welled up inside Fred just then. She morphed back into Illyria.

"That blood sucking pet of mine has taken up with the human waste with the Hair of Gold," she said bitterly. Angel's face bore the slightest trace of happiness that Buffy was back in town as he caught her scent on Illyria. He willed himself not to react too much, though, just in case Angelus was waiting to rise again.

"Buffy?" he asked. "Spike is with Buffy?" He felt a glimmer of possessiveness, but it was not as pronounced as it had been in the past.

Wesley noted how Illyria was looking. Her face was drawn in anger, and her stance was hostile. It usually tended to be, but the former Watcher could tell that this was decidedly different. If he had needed money, the ghost would have won a King's ransom just then betting the farm that both sides of the woman before him were experiencing classic traces of jealousy.

Angel caught on quickly, too, but Wesley was the first to speak. "And that bothers you," he pronounced.

Illyria responded, "It sickens me. I do not know why! I wish to grab her hair and tear it out until her brown roots are revealed!" Angel and Wesley fought down a snicker.

"Have you said anything to Spike about this?" Angel asked. "Does he know how you feel?"

Illyria asked disdainfully, "Why do I need to?"

"Well," Wesley drew himself up to explain, "we are talking about a man. A vampire, of course, but still a _man."_

"Some of us tend to be a little thick in the head when it comes to understanding women," Angel put in.

"But, that does not make sense," Illyria protested. "He is able to smell me, isn't he?"

"Yeah, my grand childe can smell the _desire _on you, but he doesn't know how deep that goes," Angel said. "He probably looks at it as a momentary thing. He's very sensitive, you know."

"Undoubtedly the poet inside of him," Wesley told her. "He has been broken by the opposite sex before, and he doesn't want to risk being hurt again."

"So he's hanging back, waiting for you to make the first move," Angel took up the slack.

"But he is with that diseased…" Illyria started to say something really vile about her competition when she caught the vampire's and the former Watcher's eyes.

"…that _human," _Illyria finished. "He will not want to continue relations with me, nor would he want to pursue something deeper."

"It's just a guess, but why don't you ask him?" Wesley queried. Angel nodded in agreement, his face solemn.

"You really think…?" Illyria asked, sounding a little like Fred just then with her shyness.

"Yeah," Angel responded. "One thing about Spike: he never backs down from a challenge, or evades a question. If you ask him, he'll tell it plain. Gunn would have called it 'keepin' it real.'"

Illyria morphed back into Fred and opened the dimensional portal, glad that she could at least travel short distances without discomfort and happy that she had chosen to see the two who could help her most and she had taken their advice. After she left, Angel and Wesley looked at each other, and for once, both were happy that they'd done the right thing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Spike listened for any sign that Buffy was just being kind; that she didn't love him at all, but merely tolerated him. Her heart was steady, he didn't smell sweat, and her lips stayed level, all signs that she spoke the truth.

"So…you do love me as a friend, then?" he said slowly. Buffy took that time to pull the vampire into a hug. Spike returned it, pulling her back when she was ready to pull away.

The two former lovers hugged each other longer. Buffy jerked her head back as Spike's human guise slipped back into place. They kissed warmly and, locking hands, went upstairs to where he slept.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fred stepped through the portal right in front of her room inside the mansion before she became Illyria again. She could hardly wait to declare her feelings for Spike, and she was hoping he would show true devotion and love to her in return. She went toward his room across the hall…and the sight that greeted her nearly made her puke.

Buffy and her vampire were kissing on top of his bed. Although they were fully clothed, her eyes saw them looking at each other warmly, totally oblivious to the outside world.

The former Demon Goddess turned and ran away from the chamber lest Spike catch her scent. She sat on her bed, letting what she had seen and what was about to happen register in her big, blue eyes. Illyria decided just then that her course of action would be that she would wait for them to conclude their business, then she would dispatch both of them to the greatness beyond. Although she felt her heart breaking with her decision, she wanted to send them away to the four winds.

Or maybe, she decided with a smile, she'd do that to Buffy and teach Spike afterwards what true devotion meant. She let the river falling from her blue orbs continue unmolested by the tissues by her bed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy removed her jacket and undid the tie on Spike's robe. He kissed her neck, but as she reached for his robe to jerk it off, Spike batted her hand away.

"Buffy," he told the Slayer, "I can't do this." He got up and, after a brief moment, tied up his robe as he crossed to the window and stared out. The green eyed young woman looked at him, propping herself on her shoulders.

"You can't do this?" Buffy asked, more incredulous than angry. Spike turned around to face her. She still looked golden, but she was no longer the Goddess he had once obsessed about. His mind was wrapped around a different Goddess, her eyes of blue looking up into his; her hands touching him…their sparring and the possibility of making love a Siren's Song to him.

"'M sorry, pet," he said. "I thought I still wanted you, but when we kissed just now, I realized how much I've gotten over you."

When Buffy looked a little hurt by his admission, the vampire ran his hand through his straight hair until some curls fought their way free. "I mean, you're still shaggable," he proclaimed, "no doubt about that, but…I don't want to do it wi' you."

Buffy thought about that, then she smiled, saying, "You know something? I wanted to be with you, but even though your lips are still major league hot, it seems like…I dunno…I can take them, or leave them."

When Spike sat on the bed and she sat beside him, she said hurriedly lest he feel unwanted, "I mean, I do love you, but more like a boy friend, not a boyfriend." She frowned, commenting a second later, "Boy…that didn't come out right. What I mean is…".

Spike caught her hand and held it up in a friendly gesture. "I got the memo, pet," he said. "I know _exactly _what you mean." He kissed her hand, then let it go without hesitation.

"I forgive you, kitten," he told her. Buffy echoed the same. She got off of the bed and went to the door.

"So, I'll see you around?" she asked. Spike nodded, getting up and walking to the door. He didn't follow Buffy out, but watched and waited until he couldn't smell her any more. When he heard her car go further and further away, the vampire went in search of the woman he craved.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Illyria punched the bag in the gym, seeing the image of Spike and Buffy superimposed on it. She let her leg fly, kicking it so that some of the sand spilled out.

"You're a murderess," she heard Spike's voice say. "What'd that bag do to you, Blue?" Illyria kicked and punched her way to where he was. Doing a perfect flip, the former Demon Goddess brought him to the ground between her knees.

Spike grunted, choking out his reply. "Okay, a li'l hard on the sparring move, pet," he told her. Illyria didn't break her hold.

"I should crush your head like the walnuts I consume," she told him venomously. Spike could feel the pressure. His hands flew up to throw her off. It was then that Illyria let go. The vampire collapsed on his back, coughing. Good thing, he decided, he didn't need oxygen.

"What the bleedin' hell's _wrong_ with you?" Spike wanted to know. Both combatants got up. Illyria looked at him angrily.

"A better question is: when will you be departing?" she asked. "I assume you wish to take your trollop away somewhere soon!"

Spike was confused for a split second before he realized who Illyria was talking about. "Is all this because you think I'm interested in Buffy?" he asked. He got a kick to his jaw for his trouble.

"Oi!" he protested. "Watch it wi' the power bit!" He slammed Illyria in a throw hold to a mat that was on the floor.

She pushed him off of her. "I shall spare you the trouble!" she said. "Once I make you suffer because you dared to defy me in _my own home _with her, you may go to her side, assuming I leave any part of you to fawn over her with!" She jumped to her feet. Spike did the same as they regarded each other.

"Listen, Blue…" Spike started saying hotly, but then he forced himself to calm down. Unfortunately, Illyria was still hot and bothered. She punched him in his face.

"Bloody hell!" the vampire swore. He saw stars for a moment, but then, he recovered and grabbed the blue hued female's arms and crossed them in front of her.

"It's no' what you think," he said in a more normal voice. Illyria jerked her head to the left as she became aware of his well sculpted chest. His scent was tantalizing just then, as she decided she didn't mind his unique aroma as much as she had in the past.

"And, what do I think?" she queried. Spike ran his arms down hers and spun her around. He didn't answer her, but he smirked.

"_I _think you're jealous," he guessed correctly. "An' I like that." He kissed her passionately just then. Illyria felt the most delicious of sensations. She knew what a kiss was; she had seen it countless times when they had watched reruns of Spike's soap _Passions. _But she had never known the level of feeling such a thing could inspire.

She returned his kiss with equal fervor. "So, you are devoted to me, then?" she inquired. Spike ran his hands over her fully clothed breasts.

"Baby, never doubt it," he told her truthfully. Illyria's lips curled in a smile.

"Never make me doubt it again," she said, "or I shall make certain you reap the flames of Hell for your lack of devotion." Spike grinned as he kissed her again.

"If I _do _stray, Blue, I'll lead you to the pit," he promised. They undressed just then and sank to the mat.

That day, the vampire taught the Goddess how devoted he was, and she was won over by his devotion with no regrets.

THE END


End file.
